Monday, April 08, 2013

the miracle of birth

We’re standing in the courtyard of an old,
C-shaped, ten-storey apartment block, the simple, black metal gantry of its
internal stairways and gangways rising up around us like we’re on the set of
some seedy 1940s drama set in New Orleans. Except it's freezing cold, and the
tree in the middle of the courtyard in its plain, red brick planter would only
bear fruit if you tied it on with string.

We’ve been called to a woman about to give
birth in flat number one, but the woman in flat number one is past childbearing
age. In fact, so far past childbearing age she takes a full five minutes to
make it to the door with her frame.

‘Who did you say you wanted?’

‘Sorry to have bothered you.’

‘That’s all right, son. I’ve enjoyed it.’

She closes the door and we head back out
into the courtyard.

I’m tempted to lean back and shout out.

Stella!

Or whatever the patient’s name is. But Rae
calls Control, and they tell us they’ll check the address.

Four guys walk past, looking so rough it
would make a pirate blush.

‘Evening,’ says one. The others don’t say
anything but grunt and grin and stroke their cutlasses.

‘Hello.’

‘Did someone die?’

‘Nope.’

‘Or hang the’selfs.’

‘I hope not.’

‘Yah. Me too, bro.’

They laugh and carry on. I hear one of them
say something surprisingly pettish, about how there’s always an ambulance here.
He’s not far wrong, though. It’s definitely a hotspot.

Control calls back.

Right name, but it should be House, not Lodge. The House version
is just next door.

We pick up our bags and head that way, high-stepping
over a low, chain-link fence to save time.

*

Sky opens the door to us. A tall, sleepy
looking guy in his twenties, he has a clumpy black afro that looks like someone
used it to unblock a chimney. He scratches up his jeans and steps aside for us
to come in.

‘Yo,’ he says. ‘She’s thru’ there on the
sofa.’

Jelly is propped up on cushions, her legs
drawn up, puffing through the next contraction with her face screwed up. But
the strange thing is, no sooner has the contraction ended then she is bright and
alert, laughing that Sky didn’t even know where they lived.

‘You’re incredible,’ she says.

‘Fanks. You’re not so bad yourself.’

Jelly tells us she’s thirty-two weeks
pregnant.

‘I’ve been having contractions every few
minutes. I had them a couple of days ago and went in to hospital, but they didn’t
say whether the baby was coming or not. They told me if I started getting them
again, to give you guys a ring.’

Another contraction. She draws her legs up
and rides it out.

When it’s passed, she’s perfectly relaxed
again.

‘It’s been all right up till now,’ she
says, taking a sip from a carton of apple juice. ‘No worries. Not like the last
one. I was in labour for a week.’

‘Man – I’m glad I wasn’t around for dat party,’ says Sky, zipping his hoody
up to his chin.

‘How old’s your other child?’ I ask her.

‘Five.’

‘And where is he tonight?’

‘With his dad. Ooh – here it comes again.’

Sky does a hopeless Michael Jackson kind of
spin on the spot and then smiles at me. ‘I suppose we’re off to the hospital
then?’ he says.

‘Yep. Can you get Jelly’s things together?’

‘What like, man?’

‘You know – notes, phone, keys, money.
Whatever she might need.’

‘I don’t know what she might need. What do
you mean, notes?’

‘Notes. You know. Maternity notes.’

I draw the shape of it in the air.

‘Oh. Notes.’

He starts rummaging through a pile of
things.

‘You know – they asked me some crazy fucked
up shit on the phone before you got here,’ he says.

‘What like?’

He straightens up.

‘Like they asked me to take a look and see
if the baby’s head was coming. The baby’s
head! I mean – what’s that about?
It’s crazy!’

He pulls a face, and then carries on searching.
After a second or two he stops.

Jelly sounds like a nice girl, but I seriously hope that's just a nickname. Sky, though... my lands. She really wants him around? I'd be totally put off by his cluelessness. But, to each their own I guess...

Also, totally relieved to read that she was swigging apple juice instead of some sort of liquor. That's almost what I was expecting!